


Just Like Previous Games

by justaWindow



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Might discontinue this, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Simulation AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaWindow/pseuds/justaWindow
Summary: The 53rd Killing Game was just a simulation. Shuichi struggles to comprehend everything.





	1. Chapter 1

Everything burned. His legs burned, his lungs stung, he couldn't feel his fingers. His arms were stuck to his sides. Was he laying or standing? Yet his body was burning, a strange numbness engulfed him. Where was he? Green filled his vision, a blurry green expanse of light stretching, muffling the array of beeping he could faintly hear outside of the green whatever he was in.

His digits moved and danced across the soft bedding he was on. Yep, he was laying down. His eyelids twitched as they struggled to stay open. He suddenly felt claustrophobic, the walls of the thing he deducted he was lying in were closing in on him. Get me out. His heartbeat sped up and he sucked in large, quick breaths. Get me out.

Shouting voices filled his ears and a figure standing in the green blur began moving, lifting the cover and colour replaced it. White, grey, brown, blue. Red. Red. Red. His body trembled as strange, lab coat-clad men leant closer, finger prodding at his chest. He wanted to move away, away from this place, get me out, get me out. The man's voice was calm, gentle, telling him to sit up. He obliged, gripping at the stranger's arm to help sit himself up. He could see white walls and other pod-like structures. He could see two other people getting out of them.

Shuichi's mouth went dry and he stumbled out of the pod, their names resting on his tongue, who were they? Where was he? One of the men grabbed his arm, hauling him out of the room, away from the pods. He staggered, struggling to keep up. His legs felt sore and unused, despite just using them to walk not to long ago. His eyes widened and he inhaled. He opened his mouth to protest to the man, but the words died in his throat. He couldn't form vowels, his tongue felt heavy. He wanted to tear himself away and wake them up, but the man held tight, dragging him along the empty white hallways.

They arrived at a light grey door with the nameplate "Saihara Shuichi" written on it. A key was shoved into the lock and the door opened. He was guided to the bed, where he laid down, his eyes trailing after the men.

"Someone will be here soon to explain what's going on." Then they left.

He sat there, his back elevated on the lifted mattress, his fingers intertwining and the pads of his thumbs rubbing together idly. His dull eyes lifted to take in the room. Bland. Plain. Boring. White. White. White. White. White. The ceiling, walls, the bed and curtains were all white. The only colour he could see was the dark brown floors and the uncomfortable-looking pale yellow chair pushed in the corner beside the bed.

He emitted a raspy, hollow sigh. His arms shook and he leant back, his eyes tracing the indents and curves of the brick wall. Anything to get his mind off the previous occurrences. He tried counting in his head, but nothing could chase away the memories. The memories of death after death, execution after execution. He wanted to get rid of the information she had told him, how everyone had volunteered to be on this show. How they all wanted to die, how they were willing to give their life away, to participate in a should-be-illegal 'reality tv'. He felt disgusted with himself, with everyone else. He felt ashamed.

He felt ashamed that he had only managed to escape with two other people.

The door creaked open, and a woman stepped in. Her hair was a pale golden blonde, and it reminded him of... someone. The woman smiled and sat down on the chair, bringing it closer.

"Hello, Saihara. You must be confused. Don't worry, I'll fill you in," she paused to look at him, taking in his expressionless face, then continued, "my name is Konomi Fumi, and I'll be your therapist. Now, you might remember some snippets of the Killing Game. But, that was all just a simulation!" She swept her hands across the room, and Shuichi swore he could faintly hear a small ta-dah.

"Yes, your friends are still alive, but right now they are locked within a sort of... vegetative state. They'll be asleep for a while and will one by one, wake up."

Shuichi glance down at his lap, where his hands lay. He fiddled with his fingers, mumbling a small response.

"Since you, Harukawa and Yumeno won, you'll be getting a compensation, but for now, you all will stay in the hospital unit until you all are back to your right state of minds. Okay?"

Shuichi didn't respond. His mind lingered on the names she said.

"I'll be leaving now. See that clock over there? When it reaches 5, I'll come back to bring you to the cafeteria, where you can meet your friends again." She clasped her hands together and flourished out of the room, her lab coat swishing behind her as the door closed.

Shuichi glanced at the clock that he never knew was there. Guess he was getting rusty. It was 4:03. He had one hour to sit here and do nothing. How fun. Exhaling, he focused on Yumeno and Harukawa. Who were they? The other two survivors. Of course. He remembered Maki's fierce glare and her constant yet empty threats. He remembered Himiko's lazy and bored drawl of a voice and her fervent denial that she wasn't just a magician. Shuichi smiled, a small grin. The smile faded as a sudden anxiety gripped him, will they be the same as he remembered, will they still like him? Shuichi frowned, his nails digging anxiously into his knuckles.

Before he knew it, the woman returned, helping him stand up. She led him down the seemingly endless hall, turning a corner where two large doors sat. Pushing them open, she stepped inside, and Shuichi followed, his head down, hands itching to pull down his hat which wasn't there. Following her pointing finger, he seated himself at the long table where Maki and Himiko sat in the middle, across from each other. A plate rested in front of him.

His appetite drained away, so he sat awkwardly, eyes boring into the table. A silence folded over the three beings.

"Um..." Himiko began, her fork digging uselessly into the food, "so, we won, right? The game?"

"I wouldn't call it winning..." Maki stuffed some meat into her mouth, her gaze dark.

She looked up to meet Shuichi and Himiko's curious looks. "We participated in a Killing Game tv show set up for fun, we wanted to participate. Our friends are actually alive and since we won, we're getting money for watching them die. Seems like a real nice win to me." She spat, venom lacing her voice. "Who knows what they'll be like when they wake up, or if they'll even remember us."

Shuichi stared back down at his lap, watching as his feet tapped on the ground. He wanted to say something inspiring, something hopeful, but he was sick of the word hope. He was sick of being the always encouraging protagonist.

"I want them to wake up and remember us..." Himiko fiddled with the buttons of her hospital gown. She unconsciously raised her hand to pull at her witch hat and after realizing it wasn't there, she settled for twirling her fingers in her bobbed red hair. Tears shone on her eyelids as she sniffled loudly. Shuichi's chest stung with sympathy. He, too, wanted them to remember him. To wake up and not be filled with despair.

Maki sighed and stood up, "the woman, Konomi, said the others will wake up after a while." And with that, she trotted out of the room, the wide doors puffing out a squeak as they closed behind her.

"It's... going to be okay," Shuichi mumbled, his voice tired and small.

Himiko nodded numbly.

Shuichi wished he could reassure himself, too.


	2. Chapter 2

The clock ticked quietly, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the blankets. Laying in bed was sickeningly boring. He leant his head back to stare at the ceiling. The same schedule every day of wake up, lay around, eat, lay around some more, go to therapy then sleep got pretty tiring after just a few weeks.

Yeah, a few weeks have already passed. Almost a month. Shuichi felt a slight disappointment that none of the others have woken up. Emitting a small sigh, he flung the covers off and stepped off the bed, trotting over to the door. Turning the knob, he peered into the hallway, and after making sure nobody was around, he slipped out of the room.

He walked down the hall, his hand gripping the handrail running along the bland beige walls. He made his way over to Maki's room, 110, knocking lightly on the door. A few seconds passed before shuffling sounded and it opened just a crack, Maki's fierce red eyes glaring at him.

"Um, hello Maki," Shuichi muttered, raising his arm to wave.

"What do you want?" She growled in a low voice.

"I... Thought that... Maybe you wanted someone to keep you company..." He stuttered nervously, lowering his hand to wring them together.

"..." Maki continued to stare at him through narrowed eyes.

Shuichi shuffled his foot against the ground, peering at the angry-looking girl through his bangs, a shaky smile on his face.

She sighed, pulling the door open, "Get in, I know the real reason you're here." She muttered something under her breath, and Shuichi was sure it was an insult, but brushed it off and trotted inside.

He sat down on the seat In the corner while Maki took to leaning against the door, arms crossed, long hair cascading down her back. Shuichi noticed they weren't in pigtails anymore.

"...Do you think they'll wake up?" He asked hesitantly.

"..." She gazed out the window, darkened by the night sky, "I hope so."

He shifted, feeling uncomfortable. The fabric itched at his legs. He felt the arms of the chair tightening around him. "I'm bit disappointed that it was all just a virtual reality."

Maki turned to him, confused, "You mean you're disappointed that everyone is alive?" Her voice was cold and hard.

"Ah... No, I just... I'm disappointed that everything we thought was real at the school, is fake. Our talents, personalities, memories. Everything we thought we knew about ourselves was just made up all for some sick television show."

Her eyes closed and she chuckled halfheartedly, "I see. I feel the same. I'm more disappointed in myself, for believing the dumbass story she made up and for believing that I was a goddamn assassin."

"You did look like one. You looked like you could kill anyone if you gl-"

"Amami Rantarou has woken up! We need assistance to restrain him!" A voice outside the room interrupted him and footsteps sounded, rushing past.

Shuichi sat there, dumbfounded. His mouth hung open. Beside him, Maki stood rigidly with her eyes wide. She shoved the door open and sprinted down the hall, Shuichi on her heels. They reached a room with hurried chatter emitting from it.

Shuichi approached a doctor standing idly in the doorframe, scribbling things down onto a paper clipped to a clipboard. "E-Excuse me? What's going on?"

The doctor turned, eyebrows raising, "You're the survivors, correct?"

Shuichi nodded, hands fingering the plain white fabric of his pants, suddenly feeling apprehensive.

"It appears Amami Rantarou, the first one to die, has woken up. Though when he first did, he thrashed and struggled, but quickly calmed down." The man hummed, his pen scratching the paper as he quickly wrote, peering into the room.

Shuichi did the same. Rantarou was sitting calmly on the bed, back resting against the headboard. He was looking curiously at a doctor who held a stethoscope to his chest. His arms rested neatly on his lap, eyes lazily flicking over to the black-haired head peeking in, a smile finding it's way onto his face. He raised his hand and waved.

Shuichi stuttered, ducking away. "He appears to be fine... I'm glad," he sighed.

"That's a relief. It's progress." Maki nodded, her eyes closing as she rubbed her knuckles tiredly against her eyes, a small yet alleviated smile forming. It quickly disappeared, replaced by an emotionless scowl as she turned away, crimson eyes flicking open again. Her hospital slippers scuffed against the floor as she disappeared down the hall, hair bobbing against her back.

Shuichi glanced back into the room, watching as Rantarou beamed sluggishly at the doctors, flexing his fingers and bending his arms. When the doctor asked him a question, he shrugged and chuckled quietly. When the man fixed him a sharp look, he nodded nonchalantly.

Shuichi left, relieved and hopeful. If Rantarou was awake first... Then that meant...

Beaming widely, he hurried back to his room, determined and... excited. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to hold her hand again and hear her melodious voice and see that she was alive and well. He lingered outside his room, a rueful and solemn look nestling on his face. He could see her sweet smile and twinkling magenta eyes and her outstretched hand, fingers parted in welcome. He wiped furiously at the tears that suddenly formed, exhaling deeply. "She'll be okay. She'll still like you."

He hung tight into those words, clutching them close for some sort of reassurance that nothing about her would change. She'll be the normal energetic, peppy pianist and leader she assigned herself to be, spreading optimism and courage throughout the group and leave everything that happened behind.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his legs suddenly feeling weak. A small click sounded behind him, but he felt too exhausted to notice, fatigue draping over him. The sudden lethargy pushed Shuichi to fall onto the bed, folding the blankets on top of himself, feeling way too tired to care that the time only read that it was around seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read a few virtual reality v3 fanfics and was really disappointed how they were written. I don't want to spoil anything that is going to happen, but I'm going to stray away from how the other authors have written theirs.
> 
> Terrible hints but whatever. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I trrrrried to make it longer but was only able to squeeze in a thousand words.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Shuichi did when he woke up was visit Rantarou.

He tentatively pushed the door open and stepped inside. He closed it behind him and turned to the room's occupant, who was watching him with tired-looking eyes.

"Hello," Shuichi bowed slightly, walking over to sit in the chair that was pulled up to the bed's right side.

"Good morning, Shuichi," Rantarou mumbled, his eyes trained on him.

"How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?"

"...I'm sleeping as well as someone expects me to sleep." The green haired boy answered slowly, still staring.

"That's... nice..." Shuichi linked his fingers together, his thumbs fiddling. "Listen... Um, Rantarou, do you still remember what happened in the school?"

A thick silence fell upon them, but Rantarou broke it by nodding, a rueful look settling upon his face.

"I see... Do you... know who killed you?"

Rantarou's dull green eyes sharpened and he tilted his head, like a confused dog would, "No. I don't."

His lax expression and tight eyes with underlying curiosity told Shuichi he wanted to know. So he spilled, "During the trial to find out who killed you... We thought Kaede did it. Even she thought she did it. But it turns out she was wrongfully accused and... we found out that... Tsumugi actually killed you."

Rantarou nodded, letting out a small " _Ah_." He tore his gaze away from the ravenette and took to boring metaphorical holes in the ceiling with lethargic eyes.

"So... Um... When are they going to allow you to walk around freely?" Shuichi quickly changed the topic, a tense atmosphere residing within the room.

"Hopefully soon. I want to get out of here."

Shuichi flinched. That sentence seemed vaguely familiar. A sense of unease settled in his stomach.

"Shuichi, did you survive?" Rantarou asked suddenly, startling him.

"Yeah. Maki, Himiko and I made it out." He answered, glancing down at his hands, fingers disconnecting from each other. He rested his palms on his knees.

"Do you feel guilty?"

Did he feel guilty? Did he think, every night, about the others, how he left them behind? Did he dream nightmares where jealous hands would grasp and plead him to save them? "...Yeah. Sometimes I do."

Rantarou looked back at him, a wistful and thin smile. "Survivor's guilt."

"Ah! That's right, you survived a previous game, didn't you." Shuichi piped up, leaning forwards.

"So you watched that video, huh?" Rantarou leant back against the headboard, raising his arm to analyze his fingernails. "You're going to be late if you stay here any longer."

"Ah, yes. Hopefully, you'll be able to join us for breakfast soon. I'll see you later." Shuichi bowed slightly as he stood up. He made his way over to the door and opened it, stepping out into the hallway. He trotted to the cafeteria and sat beside Himiko, where a bowl of bland cereal was placed.

He scooted his chair forwards and grabbed the spoon, fumbling his fingers, trying to get a proper grip. He dove it into the ocean of milk, the dip in the utensil collecting the small o's.

He hesitantly brought it up to his lips and tipped them in, his tastebuds tingling at the new yet plain sensation.

Beside him, Himiko shovelled the cereal into her mouth, diving the spoon into the bowl and scooping large portions, practically inhaling them.

Maki visibly scowled and reached over to grab Himiko's elbow, easing her to slow down.

The pseudo-magician whined, her lips turning into a fish-lipped pout, "I'm  _really_  hungry!"

"If you keep eating like that, you'll get sick." Maki retorted.

Himiko hummed fiercely but gave in and slumped forwards, shoving the tip of the spoon into her mouth.

The rest of breakfast passed without a word. The clock on the wall chimed, signalling the start of another hour.

Shuichi sighed, standing up. He abandoned the half-eaten cereal and, with Maki and Himiko in tow, made his way to the daily therapy session. The time spent in therapy was a waste. Konomi, the therapist, had spent the past few weeks trying to get them to talk and share their feelings and experiences. No one had been very open. When talked to, Maki sent her a burning glare, Himiko shifted uncomfortably and Shuichi always kept his eyes on his lap.

But Konomi felt they were making progress and the sessions continued.

He walked into the room and sat down on his appointed seat. Sixteen chairs were arranged into a circle, and whenever he entered, Shuichi couldn't help but be reminded of the class trials.

Maki sat on the seat to his left, Himiko flopping down beside her.

He glanced around the room, seeing that Konomi had yet to arrive. Keeping his eyes on the clock on the wall across from him, he watched as the minute key ticked down. Six minutes passed until the therapist bounded hurriedly into the room. She breathlessly sat down in her chair and apologized, "I'm sorry for being late! I was visiting Rantarou. If you guys didn't know, he recently woke up. Just last night."

"Really?!" Himiko sat up, swinging her legs against the chair.

"Yes! Soon all of your friends will be waking! You must all be happy!"

Shuichi watched as Himiko nodded quickly. Her hair, which had grown a little down past her shoulders, bobbed and moved. Her hands trembled slightly and she sniffled loudly, "I hope Tenko wakes up soon..."

Shuichi rested his hand on her shoulder, "She'll wake up," he smiled softly.

"...I guess we all have people who we are waiting for." Maki added in, her hands running through her long hair, which had been tied into two pigtails. Her fingers ran through the left pigtail.

"Yes, yes! I absolutely cannot wait until Shirogane wakes up! The building right now is so bland. She'll certainly liven things up." Konomi chuckled lightly, "now, let's start, okay? Now! What do you feel about Rantarou waking, Shuichi?"

"...Happy." He mumbled. If Rantarou woke first, there was a good chance that Kaede would wake up next. If Kaede were to wake up next, then he believed that if would be quite a while until Kaito woke.

"And you, Maki?" The blonde smiled, her warm brown eyes sparkling with excitement, but underneath Shuichi could see a hint of disinterest. Whenever these sessions happened, her voice wouldn't waver, it stayed flat, laced with thick, fake emotions of positivity. Sometimes, her eyes would give her acting away, the usually bright eyes would be dull on days he supposed were her bad days. Finding out another person would be joining their terrible attempt at a therapy must've taken a heavy toll on her acting skills.

Maki, as usual just stared at her, bright red eyes meeting maroon. A few minutes passed and Shuichi could see the therapist's posture slouch as she gave in and flashed Himiko a tight-lipped smile. "And you?"

"I'm excited. I want  _everyone_  to wake up." Her fingers clenched against her thighs, digits gripping tightly at the loose hospital pants. Her arms raised and she crossed then against her chest, "Except Kokichi."

"Ouma's personality was a bit... crazy. I, personally did not like his character, either. My love is only for Shirogane!" Konomi cut in, clasping her hands together.

Himiko looked away while Maki's scowl deepened. Shuichi shuffled his feet on the ground.

"In approximately three days, Rantarou will be joining us. Let's all welcome him when he does." Konomi smiled. "Well, that concludes today's therapy. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Himiko groaned happily, hopping up.

Maki stood up and stepped quickly out of the room. Shuichi followed, Himiko on his heels.

"Nyeh... I want everyone to wake up... right now..." Himiko drawled.

"...I can't guarantee that everyone  _will_ , but I... also want them to wake up quickly." Maki added, casting a quick but somewhat gentle glance back to them.

Shuichi, after bidding a temporary goodbye to Maki and Himiko, entered his room and settled into his bed. He leant back against the headboard and sighed. He reached over to the nightstand sitting to the left of the bed and picked up a book left there by the staff. A book about the First Killing Game. He opened the cover, eyes squinting to read the tiny yet expansive text stretching across a page.

The fifty-third Killing Game may not have really happened, but the first game did.

He felt the book drop from his hold.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if anyone is out of character. This is my first time writing a v3 fanfic.


End file.
